This Changes Everything

“The Solution to Pollution Is...Pollution?” (Pages 256-261)

Klein tells of her experience at a 2011 Royal Academy convention on geoengineering in Britain. The Royal Academy is one of the world’s most prestigious scientific communities, and it has become increasingly interested in geoengineering options for reducing global temperatures caused by global warming.

This is described as a “plan B,” based on humanity’s inability to meaningfully cut carbon emissions. Geoengineering means planetary-scale engineering interventions to block a portion of the sun’s rays and cool the planet. This doesn’t literally mean “a parasol for the planet” (257); the main options that come under geoengineering are things like fertilizing the ocean with iron, covering deserts with a vast white sheet to reflect the sun, and the kinds of large-scale carbon absorbing machines Branson had in mind.

The option that is getting the most attention in the scientific community is Solar Radiation Management. This broadly means controlling the amount of the sun’s rays that make it through to the Earth’s surface. One far-flung idea would be putting up mirrors in space, but this has no scientific credibility. One of the most seriously considered options is “the Pinatubo option.” This entails spraying sulfate dioxide into the stratosphere to reflect sunlight into space and cool the Earth. This option is named after a famous volcanic eruption which achieved the same cooling effect naturally in the Philippines in 1991. Sulfate sprayed into the stratosphere would stay there and spread around the Earth, with the sulfate particles “acting like tiny light scattering mirrors, preventing the full heat of the sun from reaching the planet’s surface” (259).

The conference goes over the pros and cons of this approach. Pros: the technology exists to do this and is fairly cheap, and it could bring the Earth’s temperature down quickly. The cons include:

• It could create a permanent haze over the Earth that would stop us from seeing the stars and planets clearly;
• It would make solar power much less effective (undermining a key renewable option);
• It does nothing to change the underlying causes of climate change (the build-up of heat-trapping gasses in the atmosphere), so while it would lower temperatures, it wouldn’t stop the acidification of the oceans as they absorb carbon.

More worryingly still, once this process is begun, it can’t be stopped. As soon as sulfate levels drop, the Earth would be bombarded with the heat that had been blocked out, leaving no time for the planet to adjust. We would have to keep pumping sulfate into the atmosphere permanently.

Klein reflects on this grim picture: “we would have a roof not a sky, a milky engineered ceiling gazing down on a dying, acidified sea” (260). It would seriously affect rainfall levels, especially around the equator, in Africa, and parts of Asia, where major droughts would follow. We would have permanently altered the planet, and no life form would be free from the consequences of that action.

“Warming Up to ‘Horrifying’” (Pages 261-265)

Schemes for intervening in climate systems have been around for a while. In the Cold War era, weather modification was explored as a weapon. Until recently, the mainstream scientific community has shied away from geoengineering, seeing it as a last-ditch emergency approach and not wanting to legitimize rising levels of carbon emission by proposing a tech-fix solution.

Since our current failure to stop rising carbon emissions is becoming clear, geoengineering has become more openly discussed. Klein suggests this grows from a sense of the failure of other options and the failure of the Copenhagen Summit to get nations to commit to meaningful emission targets.

In 2009, inventor Nathan Myhrvold unveiled to the world his Starto Shield, a geoengineering technology that would use helium balloons to suspend a pipe for spreading sulfate dioxide into the atmosphere. Most see it as a last-ditch option, but Klein notes some have come out strongly, presenting this as “straight-up preferable to getting off fossil fuels” (263).

Klein describes the small community of scientists, investors, and inventors involved in the geoengineering scene. Branson and Gates both have stakes in the scene and if any of these geoengineering inventions come to fruition, there is a lot of money to be made here.

“What Could Possibly Go Wrong” (Pages 265-268)

Returning to the Royal Academy conference, Klein describes the proceedings. The participants are given three choices to map their approach to options: prohibit, regulate, and promote. Those already involved in geoengineering leaned toward promotion, and those without a stake leaned toward regulation and prohibition. Some made the point that we need more research to know if this can work and what its implications are. Klein notes someone who refuses to comply with the rigid, three-option approach and asks the more fundamental questions: “Are we not in danger of perpetuating the view that the Earth can be manipulated in our interest?” (265). No one engages with these points.

Klein looks briefly at the history of the Royal Academy, which played its part in colonial expansion and the Industrial Age, which led us on the path to the current crisis and the question of geoengineering. The basic idea at the heart of geoengineering is the same that drove the extractivist scientific approach from the beginning: that nature is a thing we can master, dominate, and control for our interests. It was that approach that led us to the problem that geoengineering is supposedly trying to fix. However, as Klein points out, geoengineering may be just the next arrogant and dangerous step along that path. Klein states that “[u]nlike curbing our emissions, succumbing to the logic of geoengineering does not require any change from us” (265); rather, it’s just the latest version of the same approach but with even greater hubris.

Klein worries that geoengineering may alter the world in ways we do not yet understand and cannot predict or control. Nature and its complex living ecosystem exist in a delicate balance, one that we could irreversibly damage. Far from solving our problems, geoengineering may be the tipping point toward losing our control of the world. Its advocates, she notes, are overconfident, self-congratulating figures with little sense of humility before nature.

Reflecting on the issue of rainfall in Africa, Klein notes that geoengineering could make the impact of climate change even worse for a great many people. This raises the question of “who is most at risk, and who gets to decide to take those risks?” (269).

“Like Climate Change, Volcanoes Do Discriminate” (Pages 269-271)

In the terminology of Solar Radiation Management, there is mention of “distributional consequences” and “spatial heterogeneity” (269). This is a roundabout way of saying some countries are going to be severely negatively affected by this option. The exact effects and where they will hit hardest can’t be known because it’s impossible to conduct a test on a big enough scale without actually starting the geoengineering process itself. This has led science historian James Fleming to claim Solar Radiation Management is “untested, untestable, and dangerous beyond belief” (270). It raises huge ethical questions.

Computer models can be used as an alternative to simulate SRM and its effects on the planet, but these simulations cannot be accurately relied on. Even still, their findings are deeply worrying. A 2008 study suggests the Asian and African summer monsoons would be significantly disrupted, leading to major water and food losses. One 2012 study showed a 20% reduction in rainfall in some areas of the Amazon.

Klein points out that if these things happened as a result of SRM, it would become not an emergency solution to climate change but a climate disaster and a mass killer in its own right. Advocates of SRM and the Pinatubo Option, however, aren’t fazed by this. They point to the unreliability of computer models and the more favorable results of other studies. Klein asks whether we can risk gambling with the future of parts of the world like this.

“History as Teacher—and Warning” (Pages 271-276)

Historical records of weather patterns after major volcanic eruptions can be used to assess the dangers that Solar Radiation Management (SRM) poses. Advocates of SRM have argued that they are emulating a natural event that the planet withstands, which therefore gives their solution “proof of harmlessness” (271). Some have even pointed to advantages after Pinatubo erupted, like increased tree growth and pretty sunsets, as well as cooling temperatures.

Other research into the aftereffects of large volcanic eruptions shows a much darker picture. After Pinatubo in 1991, there was a 20% reduction in rainfall in Southern Africa and huge crop losses. Studies have identified a strong connection between the two. Alan Rodock has researched a range of historic large eruptions and found that in all cases, devastating famines and droughts followed in parts of Africa and Asia the following year. The eruption of Luki in Iceland in 1784 was followed by a weakening of the flow of the Nile and a major famine that killed or displaced approximately one-sixth of the population. When Katmai erupted in Alaska in 1912, there followed a massive famine in Western Africa that claimed around 125,000 lives.

The evidence points to the fact that “powerful volcanic eruptions may well be the most threatening of all natural disaster to human life” (274). This makes the cheerful talk and enthusiasm of the Pinatubo Option advocates quite worrying, especially since what they’re proposing isn’t equivalent to a one-off eruption but a sustained, large volcanic eruption that would go on for decades, perhaps indefinitely. This would amplify the risks.

Advocates of SRM argue that climate change is going to have profoundly negative effects anyway, so this is still the best option. David Keith goes as far as to say it’s actually in the interests of the poorest people on the planet, who are most vulnerable to the effects of climate change (275). Other researchers warn that “the cure would be worse than the disease” (275). Klein sees in all this a political point: Would we be considering this option as seriously if the likely effects were devastating to North America and Europe rather than to poor African countries? It’s much easier to take risks with the future of faraway countries without the global wealth or power to defend themselves.

Some research shows that beginning the process in the Southern Hemisphere could lessen the damaging effects there but have adverse effects for the US, such as the increased risk of hurricanes and storms. Would the US agree to this? Klein thinks not.

“Geoengineering as Shock Doctrine” (Pages 276-278)

Klein notes it’s important to evaluate the risks rationally and clearly because if tech like SRM were ever deployed, it would be in an atmosphere of collective panic as the effects of climate change were being felt.

Some of its advocates see it as an insurance policy, a last resort. In the grip of a crisis, we would look to any option to alleviate the immediate dangers despite the long-term risk. This, Klein argues, is part of “shock doctrine”: all kinds of high-risk behaviors seem temporarily acceptable in the atmosphere of a crisis. That’s precisely why we need to evaluate the future ethics and risks of these technologies now.

For all the aforementioned reasons, Klein sees SRM as far too dangerous, unstable, and ethically problematic to be viable. She considers whether we should test the idea further to find out more about its likely effects but notes how research and testing can be a slippery slope to making something a reality. She concludes that it may be better to close the door completely on this option as too dangerous to consider, just as we have prohibited research on eugenics and biological weapons.

“Monster Earth” (Pages 278-280)

Some advocates of geoengineering shrug off the risks of SRM by arguing that we will find another tech fix down the line. French Sociologist Bruno Latour has argued, referring to Frankenstein, that we need to learn to love our monster (in this context the warming Earth), not run away from it. In other words, we need to embrace the role of the deity we have gradually been adopting ourselves and exercise our full scientific power to control and care for the planet. Society should continue intervening on a grand scale, use all geoengineering options that are helpful to us, and become responsible gods of the planet.

Klein takes issue with this, saying the Earth is not our creation, patient, or monster: “We did not create it, it created and sustains us […] The solution to global warming is not to fix the world, it is to fix ourselves” (279). She states that geoengineering is the very antithesis of good medicine and care, which aims to restore health. It would mean a series of perpetual tech fixes that take the Earth further and further away from self-regulation and leave it dependent on our intervention permanently: “If we sign up to this plan and call it stewardship we effectively give up on the prospect of ever being healthy again” (279).

Klein argues we’ve believed for too long that our technical ingenuity can save us. We’ve been convinced by the huge technological strides that humankind has made. However, an incredible invention and a plan to save our planet and communities are two very different things. The former requires a narrowly focused genius, while the latter requires a holistic social, moral, and political view that brings people together. In the words of environmentalist Ed Ayers, “Building a liveable world isn’t rocket science; its far more complex than that” (280).

“Have We Really Tried Plan A” (Pages 280-284)

Klein notes the enthusiasm of geoengineering advocates to get field tests underway and their reluctance to accept that the UN should have any governing role in this. Certainly, some people pushing geoengineering as an option see it as a way of keeping our fossil fuel-centered economy and lifestyle going. It’s a way of carrying on as usual, seen as preferable to any efforts to seriously stop polluting. Indeed, there are strong links between SRM startups and scientists and fossil fuel industry money.

Think tanks generously funded by fossil fuel dollars, such as the American Enterprise Institute, are dividing their time between work to deny climate change on the one hand and projects to put geoengineering forward as the best and only solution to climate change on the other. For the AEI, geoengineering is a Plan A, not a Plan B. It finds it preferable to lowering emission levels and says this while opposing any legislation to control emissions or tax those who profit from them.

Klein argues that all this goes to show the need for a real Plan A. If the danger of climate change is grave and imminent enough that we’re seriously considering geoengineering, we should certainly first consider the viable scientific and political solutions we have at our disposal to cut emissions. This includes things covered in this book such as investing in renewable infrastructure and public transit (funded by taxing major polluters), developing eco-agriculture, taking public control of energy infrastructure to drive a shift transition to renewables, and moving away from a profit and growth-centered model.

“The Astronaut’s Eye View” (Pages 284-290)

Klein reflects on a promotional photo from Branson’s Earth Challenge: The billionaire happily tosses a beach ball-sized Earth balloon up in the air while Al Gore looks on. This becomes an image of everything that’s been wrong with our approach to climate change. It implies we can rely on a wealthy innovator to save the planet, and it also implies that we are somehow the ones controlling the Earth and are doing the Earth a favor.

She notes a similar problem with the famous image of the Earth taken from space, which has been used by environmentalist causes. This omniscient “astronaut’s eye view” casts us as onlookers or parents of the Earth. However, the opposite is true: Humans are fragile and vulnerable and depend on the Earth for their lives. Klein argues that we should begin from a position of humility and respect for the power of the Earth as opposed to assuming we’re the clever gods who can save it. We shouldn’t look down at the Earth from above, but rather up from its roots and soil. The “astronaut’s eye view” makes it all too easy to think in terms of geoengineering, forgetting about the intricacies of nature and the millions of lives involved. The origins of environmentalism, Klein says, are “intensely local”; it begins with a love for soil, lives, nature, and a sense of our intimate involvement, not this “above it all view” (286).

Klein comments on the Plan C approach: simply leaving the planet altogether. Some talk of terraforming Mars and setting up space colonies. Along with geoengineering, the danger of these science fantasies is they create the appealing illusion that we’ll be all right in the end; technology will save us, and if it all goes wrong, we’ll simply hop off the planet and find a new place to pollute and consume. Klein claims a new movement and generation is rising to take the place of the failed “astronaut’s eye view” environmentalism. This new movement is “deeply rooted in specific geographies, but networked globally as never before” (290).